Cookie?
by scumisyum
Summary: disclaimer: Not Mine. The story: Susannah wants herself some coffee but bumps into something different alltogether. Paul and Suze when they're older not to worry, she's with good old cowboy . In loving memory of Heath, we'll sorrowly miss you.


**Cookie**

Susannah was walking, no, striding down the street, hair flying behind her as she hurried by in haste, and her bag flinging wildly by her side. Her feet were starting to hurt in her stylish yet affordable boots and she was desperately trying to cross the road before the traffic lights turned green and she would meet her death in the shape of a car.

Her goal: the Starbucks at the corner of the block. Why exactly she needed to reach that Starbucks? The reason is simple indeed. She needed to reach it so that she might be able to alleviate her inner turmoil and pain with a refreshing beverage that would give her just the kick to return to her overwhelming employer and his continuing berating. The drink in question was a caramel frapuccino, her current lifesaver and the reason she hadn't set a gang of disgruntled ghosts onto Mr. Everybody (really… not joking), the previously mentioned idiot with the paycheck.

So there she was, rushing down the street looking mentally impaired but fashionable as well –we mustn't forget the boots- and gaining land with every passing second. She was going that fast.

But as all good things, there must come an end, and the end in this particular situation was a collision. A collision that one could describe as hard, strong and jarring and this collision came in the form of a man: a very nicely sculpted, soft and firm body of a man.

Susannah mentally sighed. Because, really, if she didn't sigh then when would the right occasion present itself again? So she sighed and landed rather fiercely on her rear, cursing loudly (and proudly). The man in question had managed to regain his balance and had not fallen to the ground in an appalling fit of disgrace. So this was how Susannah Simon had found herself on her hind and looking up at a nicely tanned, strong looking and definitely manly hand and pondering whether it would be un-feministic to accept this kind offer of help. In the end feminism lost and physical pain prevailed once again.

And now the interesting part of this tale begins.

As Miss. Simon looked past her brown hair (to which she had recently added lighter highlights, not blond though. She shuddered to resemble in any way Kelly Prescott and her posse), the young lady was met with a sight that she had never expected to see again. Which was preposterous, for we all know that the world is a small fate, karma is a bitch and everything happens when you least expect it to.

So, Susannah 'Suze' Simon was looking straight at the slightly crooked smile and abashed face of Paul Slater. And she nearly recoiled from shock.

That was when the crooked smile turned into a grimace. The slightly warmed eyes turned rather cold and the pink tinted cheeks returned to their natural tan state. Paul Slater had apparently recognized his victim and the morning had taken an awkward and stale turn.

"Well, well, well. Paul Slater," the brunette started, her posture stiff; her appearance altogether hostile.

"I supposed it's too early for us to joke about how that's my line?" the handsome young man answered. He was dressed in a suit, dark blue with very faint lines; it fit him well. He had polished black leather shoes and a leather briefcase making him seem very professional and trendy. Perhaps he was successful or just keeping up appearances but he looked very dashing indeed. His face clean and devoid of stubble which, Suze noted, would have made him look roguishly handsome, his features still as alluring as when they were younger and his nose bear all that much more character for having been broken in the past.

The caffeine addict inside her nearly smiled at the thought of the little incident which had brought on said nose break. It involved a pool, her now live-in boyfriend Jesse in the form of a ghost and a silly, cocky teenager who wanted to prove his worth and failed miserably.

If Paul had any idea of what she was thinking he did not hint to it. Instead, he ruffled his hair which was cut very nicely indeed and sighed.

Susannah frowned. If someone should be sighing, it should be her.

"What are you doing here?" She finally asked, or perhaps it would be more judicious to say demanded.

"You mean, in the States or on this particular street? Either way, I don't think its any of your business." Paul answered, his face darkening and Suze remembered their youth and how irritating, brooding and self-involved he had been. She conveniently forgot how dramatic, deluded and inviting she had been at times.

It was a long time ago. Sometimes she forgot that as well.

"Wow, immature much. It's just hard to believe this is a coincidence is all." Suze started speaking and was about to continue with what she considered witty repartee but was rudely interrupted before she could formulate anything coherent.

"Look, I thought we were done with all this crap. You ended up with Jesse; I took Kelly to the damn prom. It was high school, we were seventeen, and I'm over it, you never had anything to get over in the first place if I remember your arguments correctly so why don't we just part ways and never look back?" Paul stated.

Suze looked dumbfounded. And then she thought about it, she analyzed what he said looking for some hidden double meaning that would determine whether Jesse would be threatened to death any time in the near future and came up with nothing. And I suppose that was the greatest shock she received in the entire day. It even beat being told that her boss wasn't a sexual deviant but was sponsoring a child from Sri Lanka's education.

"Right," she started, "you're absolutely right. We dealt with this, there's nothing to talk about so we should just go on our different paths and pretend this never happened…" but as she continued on it sounded wrong. She was supposed to spend the rest of her week acting perfectly normal ignoring the fact that she had bumped into what she had considered her nemesis (pretty melodramatic term, there), the thorn in her romantic side and pretending that she was in no way curious about what had happened over the years. She had grown, experience new things in life, found a job… what had Paul done with his life?

She was supposed to forget about the one question in life that obsesses every person to have ever lived? What if?

And as she spoke and thought of all of this she looked at what she had once considered the vilest person in the world's face. And she saw nothing evil or dark lurking. His face was etched in a frown but there was no particular distaste or disgust that distinguished it from a serious expression. His eyes however said more. As she spoke she saw them flicker. With what exactly, she couldn't say, but she was certain that there was no danger to fear from him and that, in itself, made her realize: we're not the same people we used to be.

But it was too late for any further thought because the second she paused he nodded jerkily and walked away in a furious pace. So Susannah was left standing on the sidewalk and as she looked at the Starbucks, she found that she couldn't quite face the idea of a sweet drink at this precise moment. So she started to walk back to her office when she realized that something was pressing into her palm.

The young girl looked down at her hand and only then understood that she was holding a business card and on it she could read:

_**Paul Slater: **_**divorce attorney**

_**Confidently guiding you through legal process**_

**350****th**** Ave. Suite 4400 NYC 10118**

**CALL 212.382.1600**

Susannah read it and smiled.

Later that day, she was walking down the 350th Avenue looking at the number of each building and grinned victoriously when she spotted the one from the card. She had called Jesse to tell him she'd be running late and had a chore to do.

As she rang the buzzard of the office, she was greeted with a deep voice asking her name and purpose.

"Um… hi, I'm here to see a Mr. Paul Slater. My name is" but once again she was interrupted.

"Honey, I don't need your name. You being here to see Mr. S is good enough," and with that the door opened with a loud, resounding clang and Suze walked in. She wasn't sure whether to be amused by the fact that the security guard had assumed she'd be here for something other than business or whether to be affronted that it was expected for Paul to receive nameless women at his work place and that she should be considered once of them. Suze decided that being indifferent would better suit her purpose because how was she supposed to offer peace when she apparently came to harass Paul at his work place.

She pressed the 5th floor on the elevator panel and listened to the ominous ding of the apparel each time it reached a new floor. Finally, it had arrived at her destination and she got off, listening to the harsh shut of the doors behind her and cringing inside.

Susannah took a deep breath and walked towards what she thought seemed to be the information booth and the sight that awaited her was that of a burly man eating a doughnut and leafing through a gaudy gossip magazine.

"So, you're the doll here to see Mr. S. Well, you are a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than that other girl but she was hot if you didn't listen to her constant yapping. You aren't going to start yapping are you?" The man looked at her intently with rather watery blue eyes and when Suze looked at him blankly he nodded in approval and then lifted his sugar-coated finger to point towards a corridor to the right.

"If you want to find Mr. S, just walk down that corridor, it's the door with the clean handle, you can't miss it. Pretty thing like you… wasted on that man; just wasted," and with those parting words, the guard returned to his scintillating read and left Susannah with a rather nauseating feeling and curling dread.

The clean handle? Gross.

So, she walked down the corridor feeling subdued and yet a certain amount of tingling of the nerves. She was anxious; she could admit that to herself; after all the Nile is just a river in Egypt. Right?

There she was, walking ever so slowly to what was apparently 'Mr. S's' office and she was pleased to note that the guard had been exaggerating and that everything looked appropriate, clean and there was a hint of snobbery that lay in the closed space she was passing through.

Finally, she reached the door with the tag indicating Paul Slater and she grasped the bag in her hand harder. She had nearly forgotten about it and quickly opened it to make sure that everything was clean and proper. Just as she was about to open the door it suddenly burst wide open and she was looking into the face of a disgruntled lawyer; Paul Slater at work ladies and gentlemen.

He did not look as fastidious as he had previously. His tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt un-done and it no longer looked crispy clean, his hair was slightly more ruffled but still looked very classy and elegant, his face more rugged but just as handsome and he was looking displeased.

Paul had opened the door and now he stared dumbfounded at Susannah Simon. She noticed that he looked less upset now and more surprised. So, taking advantage of his shock, she pushed him back into his quarters, smiled nervously and raised the pack that she had been holding preciously in her hands.

When Paul seemed to have regained the ability to think, he looked pointedly at the bag and raised an eye-brow. The faculty of speech was still beyond grasp at the present time and he had to rely on expressiveness to communicate.

So Susannah just looked at him with what was hopefully a winning smile, opened the bag and exposed a most delightful sight. As Paul opened his mouth to speak she cut in.

"You said some things this morning which made sense. And I don't mean the 'let's never see each other again' part I mean the whole 'we've been over this crap'. We're adults and we don't have to be angry with each other over what happened ages ago. We are over it; we've been over it a while and I think we've both grown on our own. We've changed and hopefully for the better. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is this; I don't want to pretend you don't exist when I can reassure myself that you exist and that you're alright… So, cookie?"

And with that, Paul smiled crookedly again for the second time that day and reached into the bag for a perfectly round-shaped chocolate chip cookie.

"Yeah, why the hell not," and Susannah smiled back and they ate in silence.


End file.
